Page 1 of Praise Me: Pilot (Praise Me Daily #6)

Joel

“ T hanks again, buddy,” says the baritone voice in my ear. “I really appreciate this.”

I squint into the sun and let out a mental sigh. “No problem, Phil.”

“Although, maybe you should be thanking me, huh?” His laugh chugs its way down the crystal-clear phone connection. “I can think of worse ways to spend a weekend than surrounded by sorority girls.”

I’m glad my mentor and frequent co-pilot isn’t here to see me shake my head, because that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Phil is my best friend. When I decided to take the leap from the Air Force to commercial piloting, he helped me navigate those waters.

Pointed me toward the right people and showed me the proverbial ropes.

I earned the stripes necessary to pilot international skies, but Phil brought me into a network that isn’t easy to breach.

He’s a good guy and we get along great, despite him being seventeen years my senior at age forty-nine.

But as a thirty-two-year-old man, I can think of a lot of shit I’d rather being doing than filling in for Phil at parents’ weekend at his daughter’s sorority.

I’m currently standing at the curb in front of the Chi Omega house, and the squeals are already deafening.

Girls rush out onto the lawn to greet their parents, enfolding them in enthusiastic hugs, cradling bouquets of flowers like they’re newborn babies.

Take a picture of me with the flowers , two of the sorority girls say at the same time, sending them into grating peals of laughter.

I’m not going to survive this.

“Remind me why you can’t make it to parents’ weekend,” I say to Phil, my head already beginning to pound. “You get free airfare. Couldn’t you have hopped a flight to Nashville to be here?”

“Ah, come on, man. Don’t make me say why I’m not coming.”

“If I’m going to spend the weekend blinded by the color pink, I deserve an explanation.”

Phil heaves a sigh. “There’s a woman in Boston that needs my…

attention, all right? I haven’t been able to see her on my last few layovers at Logan.

She gave me an ultimatum. Either show my face this weekend, wine and dine her, or she’ll move on.

” He makes a sound in his throat. “She’s a little high maintenance, but she’s worth the effort. ”

A woman.

He’s missing his daughter’s parents’ weekend to go see a woman.

That doesn’t sit right in my chest, but maybe I should give Phil the benefit of the doubt. He’s a widower. Lost his wife young. Had to raise a daughter on his own. Maybe his constant need for female companionship is something I don’t understand.

And I do mean constant. Phil might have a girlfriend in Boston, but he’s also got one in Barcelona, Milan and Dallas— and those are only the women I know about. There could be several more that he simply hasn’t mentioned.

“You’re not judging me, right?” Phil says. “Haylo will understand. Remember the story. I got stuck in some bad weather in Thailand and they rescheduled my flight back to the States for Monday. That’s the story. You and I need to be aligned on that.”

There’s a sharp turnover below my collarbone.

I’m not a liar. Never have been, never will be.

When Phil asked me to fill in for him, the favor seemed innocent enough, but now that I’m standing outside the sorority house, waiting for Haylo to emerge, the dishonesty of it all is putting a sour taste in my mouth.

“Remind me what she looks like,” I say, scanning a blur of smiling faces. As much as Phil has spoken to me about his daughter during our countless hours in the sky over the last three years, she’s never been home the few times I’ve made it over to his house.

“I sent you a picture of her. You didn’t look at it?”

“I meant to. Hold on, let me pull it up—”

“There’s no need. You’ll know which one is her. She’s got her mother’s hair and eyes. You won’t be able to miss her.” He chuckles. “I used to tell her mother she had eyes the color of a Heineken bottle.”

“What a romantic.”

“Hey—she bought my bullshit enough to marry me, didn’t she?” A pause draws itself out until Phil eventually clears his throat. “Anyway, Haylo’s hair is the color of a moonbeam. So blonde it’s almost silver. Cute as a button.”

In an instance of near perfect timing, that’s when I see her.

I almost drop the fucking phone.

My stomach muscles seize up, a pulse rollicking in my ears.

She’s…extraordinary.

She stops on the top step and searches the gathering of parents eagerly, her hands wringing at her waist, those green eyes brimming with hope, the wind causing her unusually colored hair to blow around.

That same wind flutters the hem of her pleated skirt.

It plasters her thin, white tank top to her hard nipples.

My knees almost give way beneath me, the wave of hunger hits me with so much strength.

I hear a low whistle to my right and glance over, noticing one of the fathers elbowing the man closest to him, nodding discreetly at Haylo. Both of them lick their lips and absorb a lusty eyeful, before reluctantly returning their attention to their families.

I’m surprised to find the nasty prickle of possessiveness, though it takes me a beat to identify the emotion, since I’ve never experienced it before.

Why in God’s name do I have to experience it with Phil’s daughter?

“Hey, Joel,” says Phil in my ear. “You there?”

“Yeah.” I sound like a rust bucket. “Yeah, I’m here. I think I see her.”

Just kidding. I definitely fucking see her.

That face is like the sun coming out from behind a rain cloud.

Soft, sweet, fresh.

Young.

Holy shit, I didn’t even ask how old she is.

“She must be graduating soon,” I say, trying to sound conversational.

“What? No. This is her first year. She’s a freshman.”

My stomach plummets. Uh-uh. I’m not this guy.

I don’t lust after young women. I’ve had my fair share of one-night stands and short-lived situationships, but they’ve been age appropriate and not with my best friend’s daughter.

For the love of God, I need to stop looking at her thighs and wondering if they’d make a good pair of earmuffs.

But damn, she is the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen in my life—and as a former Air Force pilot, I’ve been all over the world. She outshines everything and everyone.

“Listen, I know this goes without saying, because you’re the most respectful guy I know, Joel.

But, uh…keep your hands off my daughter.

All right?” The familiar sound of a cockpit door closing in the background of the call tells me Phil is preparing for the flight to Logan.

“You want to have a little fun with someone else’s daughter, that’s your business.

But Haylo…she’s different. She’s sensitive.

And hell, I don’t want her getting hooked up with a pilot.

We’re gone too much. She needs stability.

She needs constants in her life, after losing her mother so young. ”

I don’t point out that showing up on parents’ weekend, instead of going to answer a booty call in Boston, might have been a good start toward giving Haylo the constants she needs, but I bite my tongue.

Phil has his reasons, and I need to respect that.

He’s done nothing but help me out since I met him.

I can’t judge him the first time he makes a bad judgment call, can I?

“Joel, are you there?”

“Yeah.” My stomach tightens another degree as Haylo comes down the steps of the house, her tits bouncing in the neckline of her skintight tank top, her lithe legs starting a pulse below my belt.

She’s only a short, little thing, but she’s wearing a pair of ridiculously high heels that I surmise would bring the top of her head to my chin.

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m going to hang up now.

She’s looking around for you. I’m going to go explain what happened. ”

“Thailand.”

Acid floods my mouth. “Right. Thailand.”

I end the call.

Goddamn, there’s a fist lodged in my throat as I approach Haylo, feeling like I’m on the edge of a precipice, getting ready to dive off into the unknown.

“Haylo.”

I’m not prepared for those bottle-green eyes to fix on me, and that’s all it takes for the rest of my blood to rush south, filling my cock with heat.

The kind of pressure that almost causes me to excuse myself, so I can take care of the ache in private.

And I know the exact mental image that would make me explode.

That little skirt draped around my head while my tongue buries itself over and over in her slickness.

Get a hold of yourself.

“Yes?” she says, her voice light and curious. Husky.

I step closer to her and remove my sunglasses, wanting to make it known to the other men in attendance that she’s with me.

“I’m Joel. Your father sent me.” She blinks a couple of times, disappointment already beginning to set in.

I know in that moment that this is not the first time Phil has let her down.

“I’m sorry. He got held up in Thailand with some bad weather, so I’m here in his stead. ”

She swallows hard and looks down at the ground.

My fingers itch to tip her chin back up. I need those eyes on me.

Somehow, I resist.

“Oh,” she says, letting out a small, humorless laugh. “The old bad weather excuse. It used to work a lot better when I was younger. You know. Before I had a smartphone with a weather app.”

Anger fogs my brain. She’s seen right through the excuse.

My first words to this girl were a lie.

That shit is not sitting right at all.

“I’m sorry,” I say simply, giving in to the urge to tip her chin up, a piece of my heart tearing away when I see the sheen in her eyes. No, angel. Please don’t cry . “You’ve got me for the weekend. What do you say we make the best of it?”